


Finding Home

by the_noble_bachelorette84



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Anglophile, Big Ben - Freeform, England - Freeform, Gen, London, Poetry, Underground, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_noble_bachelorette84/pseuds/the_noble_bachelorette84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by my trip this fall to London and Liverpool with the best friend forever. It was a dream come true for us, and we developed such a fondness for the little things, the big things, and everything in between, that while we were there, a few days before we left, I had to put these words down.</p>
<p>I sincerely mean every line, and cannot wait to go back. I highly recommend it if you have the opportunity and the means (even if you have to go into a little bit of debt, like me! lol! It's so worth it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

All my life I've wandered  
Like a leaf upon the wind  
Alighting here and there  
But never closing in  
On what it meant to be at home  
Or put down any roots  
How could I know that home was in  
A pair of Wellington boots

"Oh, what's the time?" I ask myself  
Look up and find within it  
The beacon of the hours is there  
And chimes each fifteenth minute  
The tower magnificent as all  
The others come before it  
I love no other structure more  
There's no way to ignore it

Descending not as hellish  
As one might think 't would be  
Into the network vast and fast  
Of such complexity   
To fly beneath the pavements  
How could I have found  
A place of awe and wonderment  
On the London Underground

I hear outside a subtle roar  
Of commerce and of trade  
And folks commuting back and forth  
For schillings spent and made  
Although you may find it all  
Just bedlam, noise, and havoc  
I see within, the lullaby  
Of Kensingtonian traffic

The pathways walked by heroes  
And footsteps of the dreaded   
Tell stories lost and stories found  
And maybe where we're headed   
The history of the world itself  
Is writ on storied walls  
Within this city that I love  
That ever outward sprawls 

The damp and drudgery overplayed  
The hustle and bustle forgot  
My brolly in my pocket  
Whether used or not  
I never would have guessed it  
Although, I should have known  
I'd find a wealth of comfort  
In my little London home


End file.
